apathy at its best
by whizz
Summary: roxas/olette; because this isn't his story, after all.


**game; **Kingdom Hearts II  
**pairing; **Roxas/Olette, Roxas/Axel  
**warnings;** hints of shonen-ai  
**disclaimer; **I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters used.

**i.**

"There are some things one can't forget, you know", Alex provides not-so-helpfully, head tilted towards the saturated swirls lined in silver, high above the concrete towers of the infamous base of The World That Never Was.

Roxas eyes the heart-shaped moon throbbing and shifting colors like it's aching, and frowns in disgust.

"Yeah?" he asks absent-mindedly, picturing the telltale of Axel's laugh, the exact moment where his breath hitched from sucking in air. Or maybe the endless nights Roxas himself spent roaming aimlessly across the deserted hallways of Castle Oblivion, listening to the sound of Naminés crayons swooshing across neat paper. Or maybe even the feel of cool, sea-salt ice cream pressed against his lips as Xion chirruped away, a carefree smile adorning her features as Axel leaned against the clock tower and echoed the sound of the large time hand ticking away.

"Yeah", the redhead confirms, but only because he wants to convince himself - because he wants Roxas to remember their time in the Organization, spent high above the ground juggling impossible plans in the crisp air.

Roxas wants that too, but between weighing the loss of the town where twilight seems to be eternal and the foreign-yet-familiar place that doesn't even really exist, he somehow ends up with nothing at all.

**ii.  
**  
See, Roxas isn't actually a stupid person - the situation is completely bizarre but also making way too much sense which is why it's easy for him to adapt and begin to relish in the fact that the ever-sterile walls of their headquarter actually does feel used to the worn gloves covering his fingertips.

"You'll fit right in - again", Axel smirks into the crook of his neck, "You _are _the thirteenth member of Organization XII after all."

"I don't think so", Roxas murmurs. "I _was, _but I-"

"Don't", Axel cuts him off, and he doesn't even have to elaborate because that one word covers for as much suffering as a not-heart can experience, anyway, which is exactly why Roxas proceeds in keeping his mouth shut and his mind blank as he slowly-but-not-so-surely gets used to Axel's searing hot lips on his much too cold skin, pretending not to notice the way the redhead's eyebrows are desperately knitted together.

He likes to reflect afterwards, Axel's creamy back turned towards him close enough to radiate body warmth and the heavy scent of smoke in the air. Sleep is much too unnecessary and time-wasting for his almost-body, and he knows that the older boy isn't really asleep either, but Roxas is fine with that, because it makes _thinking _that much more peaceful.

In his light-headed state he considers fragments of things that might be memories, of things that may or may not have once happened, he chases dreams covered in stardust as they race across the empty fields of his mind and only ever once in a while he manages to grasp onto something - it's never concrete, though, always fleeting, but he thinks he's left something awfully precious behind in the town where trains arrive and depart but never bring him along.

Things like Hayner's hazel eyes narrowing the exact moment before pulling his features into a trademark-grin, or the long nights spent wandering aimlessly around the many streets of the town, a lithe arm at the small of his back and a muscled arm slung across his shoulder and a firm arm wrapped around his middle and they all listened to the sound of their footsteps echoing. Or maybe even the feel of cool, sea-salt ice cream pressed to his lips as Hayner would loudly scheme for the revenge of something or another against Seifer and Pence would snap photos of them all, back against the clock towerand Olette would turn to Roxas, tilt her head to the side and make her emerald eyes twinkle with joy.

Those thoughts are dangerous, and Roxas sometimes panics because he thinks he might've made all of those people up, their faces and voices and all of the things they shared and did; escaping like the frantic flutter of a bird's wing. Still, he knows that the dusty pink of Olette's cheeks as she pressed her feather-like lips to his in the photobooth last summer isn't a _lie._

So he (dreams, remembers, _whatever_) thinks and thinks until he finally passes out, until Axel finally turns and covers his chest with an arm firm enough to make the decision for him, and Roxas slips his eyes (custom-made after Sora) shut and sleeps even though it's terribly unnecessary.

**iii.**

Roxas is happy, really, because there's no reason for him _not _to be - give or take the lacking-a-heart-thing - and everything he's done and seen so far is _enough_, really.

He knows what his fate is, he knows where his lonely piece of soul belongs, and he knows that the day will come when he will truly fade into nothingness, no matter how hard Axel slams his fist into the wall and curses their miserable non-existence.

"There's gotta be a way", the redhead reasons, not even noticing the small streaks of red across his pale knuckles, and Roxas raises his head and just _breathes in _the cursed air of this place and smiles. But he says nothing.

Because there were times when he would get home, kick his shoes off and fall asleep the minute his head hit the pillow of his bed, dreaming safe boy-dreams beneath a sky where the sun was just rising or setting.

There were times when he would skate all day long in the local park with Hayner, sweat sliding down the side of his face and the ever-welcome swirl in his stomach bubbling up, the pure happiness when accomplishing a hard trick (and, more often than not, rubbing it in Seifer's face).

There were times when he'd ride the train all the way to Sunset Hill and listen to Pence's monologue about the nine wonders, bodies sprawled out across the fresh grass and just enjoying the earthy scent tickling sun-kissed skin.

His purpose may not be so satisfying now ("don't say that", Axel scowls) but at least he had a greater one once and it's _enough_, it _is_.

See, there were times when the sunshine entering through the uncovered window would would wake them up, a tangled mess of sheets and last night's make-up. Olette would stretch a lithe arm high above her mess of knotted, half-braided hair before reaching to release chestnut-tresses, and the morning sun splashing over her tanned face where loose strands of brunette hair hung made her look nothing short of breathtaking.

She'd stand with her back to him in the kitchen making pancakes and wearing some pastel-shaded beach dress from yesterday and he'd sneak up from behind, ignoring her casual chatter about the weather, pressing butterfly kisses to the exposed flesh at the junction of her collarbone and inhaling the scent of summer and sweat and maybemaybemaybe even firecracking perfection.

**iv.**

"Look sharp!" he exclaims-

(he's not sure who he's saying it to, Sora or himself)

-and as the illuminated blue encircles them, showers Roxas' pale skin in warmth and a forgiveness he hasn't even asked for, he can hear a heartbeat.

Sora's being melts into Roxas, or maybe it's the other way around, but the sandy-haired teen feels as if he is floating, like he can't feel his own body anymore; and then, there it is. Pounding within a ribcage that isn't really his own but probably close enough, fluttering like a wing-clipped bird.

He is actually surprised by the intensity of it; by the _emotions _flooding through his faded self. And through Sora's memories he watches the curl of Olette's mouth as she presented herself, the worry in moss-green eyes ("You okay?") and he can practically feel the tears streaming down Sora's cheeks for reasons he didn't understand at the time, the resounding sorrow of a lost dreamland heavy in his chest even now.

Roxas' last wish is entirely selfish and goes against the purpose he has fulfilled, the only purpose he ever had, but it's his wish and his alone, the echo of a quiet whisper within the insides of Sora's body passing by unnoticed as the world moves along.

**v.**

**A/N; **Seriously, what is my problem? What is this? And shouldn't I be working on other, more important projects instead of meaningless oneshots? Like the multi-chaptered KH fanfic that hasn't been updated for _quite _a while? Hmph. 


End file.
